Twilight Time
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: [CSI Miami] Takes place after Bulletproof. The CSIs investigate a shooting during a student theatre production, despite resistance from almost everyone involved. [HoratioCalleigh] COMPLETE.
1. one

Title: Twilight Time

Author: Melanie-Anne

Email: melani_anne@yahoo.com 

Rating: PG-13 for some strong language

Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I can visit.

Summary: Takes place after Bulletproof. The CSIs investigate a shooting during a student theatre production, despite resistance from almost everyone involved. [Horatio/Calleigh]

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, never will ::sigh:: No offense intended to the real management, staff and students of Miami University's theatre department.

A/N: Follows Kryptonite, But She Breaks and Bulletproof. Before I get into trouble, the theatre industry is not as crazy and stuck up as it is in this story (although that's not to say that it's not crazy and stuck up ::grin::) Some of my best friends are actors ;o) Additional notes at end.

For the real Gen, 'cause you were there.

* * *

Here in the afterglow of day, we keep our rendezvous beneath the blue

Here in the same and sweet old way I fall in love as I did then

Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me like days of old

Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold

Each day I pray for evening just to be with you

Together at last at twilight time

~The Platters, "Twilight Time"

* * *

Eric Delko looked around the theatre foyer, his habits as a CSI coming to him as naturally and unconsciously as breathing. Mid-week was slow for Miami University's small theatre department, and Delko gave each of the audience members a quick once-over. Mostly students, coming to support their friends. One or two older people and an eccentric fortyish man downing drink after drink at the bar. Delko recognized him from his picture in the program as the director. Brett Something-or-other.

Genevieve Risi, Delko's girlfriend of two weeks, returned from the bathroom and slipped her arm through his. He felt slightly less out of place than before, and smiled down at her. Genevieve was completely unlike him. Tiny and slender, with a mane of dark hair, she was a dancer at _Taboo_, a club in downtown Miami. At times he worried that she would break if he held her too tight, but she was surprisingly strong for her size. He'd met her at his gym and they'd fallen into the habit of doing the circuit machines together. From there it had been a natural progression to lunch, and drinks, and bed.

"Isn't Tanya great?" she asked. Tanya, her sister, was Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. When Genevieve had invited him to the play, he'd been skeptical. He couldn't recall watching Shakespeare before. Ever. But then she'd smiled and said please, and he'd found himself saying he'd love to.

To his surprise, he was enjoying himself so far.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"She's going to New York when she graduates. She wants to make it on Broadway."

Delko wrapped his arm around Genevieve's waist and drew her against him. Planting a kiss on her neck, he murmured, "Broadway, hmm?"

She laughed. "Yeah . . . Eric, that tickles."

He knew; that was the point. Just then the foyer lights flickered, signaling the end of interval. Delko took her hand and led her back into the theatre. They found their seats and patiently waited for the house lights to go down. Delko wondered what it was about the theatre that made a person want to whisper once inside. He turned to Genevieve, intending to ask her, and smiled when he saw her staring expectantly at the stage. Earlier, she'd whispered that the most magical time was the second before the stage lights came up, while the entire auditorium was dark. Looking at her now, he was inclined to agree, although for different reasons.

The lights dimmed, and Delko settled back in his seat to watch. There was a loud bang from the wings. Delko immediately recognized it as a gunshot. He looked around; no one else seemed perturbed, thinking it was part of the show. The actor playing Benedick stumbled out onto the stage, clutching his chest. A man dressed in a sweat suit followed, a gun in his hand. Delko grabbed Genevieve and pulled her down onto the floor. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, switched it on and dialed 911.

The shooter hopped off the stage and came into the audience. The house lights were almost completely dim. Someone screamed. Genevieve tried to pull away from Delko.

"My sister!" she hissed.

"Just stay here." He tightened his grip on her wrist and slowly raised his head. Everyone hid behind seats, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The shooter walked up the stairs, pausing at each one as he looked down the rows. Eventually he stopped. He raised the gun slowly and fired once. There were more screams. Genevieve clung to Delko, whimpering. The shooter calmly walked out.

"Gen, stay here." Delko climbed over her and followed. He didn't have his gun on him, but he hoped he wouldn't need it. Back up would be here soon anyway, he thought. He just had to make sure the shooter didn't leave before then.

"Eric!"

He looked back. Genevieve was still crouched on the floor, her knuckles white as she held onto the armrest. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"It's okay. Just stay there."

He pushed through the doors and looked around the foyer. It was empty. He swore softly and hurried to the exit. A car's wheels screeched in the car park and there was the sound of approaching sirens. Delko reluctantly admitted there was nothing he could do, and returned to the theatre.

Genevieve threw her arms around him. "Why'd you follow him? I thought he'd shoot you too."

"I'm fine. Hey!" he yelled. "Could we get some light in here?"

Almost immediately, the house lights went on. Delko saw the director's body at the same time as someone screamed.

"Eric, let's go. This is . . . I . . . please can we just leave?"

"I can't." He sat Genevieve down. Part of him wanted to take her away from all of this but another part of him knew he had to preserve the scene. He found his phone lying on the floor where they'd hid, and dialed Horatio's number. As he quickly filled his boss in, he climbed over the seats and felt for a pulse. There was none.

He checked on the actor next. By now, some of the other cast members had come out of hiding. Tanya knelt on the stage, cradling her friend's head in her lap. She looked up as Delko stopped next to her.

"I think he's dead." She was pale, her make up streaked from crying.

Delko pressed his fingers to the neck, and nodded. "You can't help him, Tanya."

Moving slowly, in shock, Tanya got to her feet. Eric put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Why don't you go sit with your sister?"

Tanya nodded then glanced down at her hands. She rubbed them on her dress but the blood remained. She started to hyperventilate. Delko caught her as she fell and carried her away from the body. He set her down on a chair in the wings then returned to the stage to wait. 

* * *

Calleigh and Horatio walked into the theatre side by side. They'd passed a few audience members in the foyer, some in shock, others well on the way to drowning their fear in alcohol. They stopped at the top of the stairs. Delko was talking to Frank Tripp on the stage. Two girls sat comforting each other in the front row. A few cast members were scattered around the auditorium.

"Hey, Horatio? How come you never bring me to the theatre?" Calleigh smiled up at her boss, although he was now so much more; her friend, her lover, her everything.

"Excuse me, you two," a voice came from behind them. They made way for Alexx to pass. Calleigh followed her to the director's body and Horatio went to join Delko.

"Looks like a single gunshot to the head." Alexx carefully felt the skull until she found what she was looking for. "Exit wound at the base of the neck. Through and through."

Calleigh pulled out her flashlight and shone it on the floor. "Who brings a gun to a theatre?"

Alexx shrugged. "It takes all kinds."

"Umm." Calleigh bent over the seat and picked up the bullet. "Gotcha."

"You and Horatio came together?"

Calleigh couldn't hide her smile. "Yeah."

"Good."

She looked up and met her friend's eyes. Time to steer the conversation back to the case. "Was that a muzzle stamp I saw earlier?"

"You okay?" Horatio put his hand on Delko's shoulder. Delko nodded. "What happened?"

"There was a shot and Benedick—I don't know his real name—came on stage. The shooter followed, came up the stairs, shot the director and left." Delko shrugged. "That's basically it."

"Okay."

"I should have stopped him."

"And got yourself shot? We'll get him, don't worry about it." He smiled, hoping to reassure the younger man. "Are you sure you want to be involved?"

"Yeah."

Horatio thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."

"Thanks." He crossed to Genevieve and Tanya, his hand automatically reaching for Genevieve's. She leaned against him. "You guys okay?"

They nodded. Tanya had changed back into her street clothes; the now bloody costume taken as evidence.

"Can I, like, go outside for a smoke?" Tanya asked. "It's creepy just sitting here and watching you guys, you know, do your thing."

"It shouldn't be a problem."

"Great." She pulled her sister along with her.

"Shakespeare? Man, you must be serious about this girl." 

Delko turned and greeted his friend with a smile. "You're just jealous 'cause, for once, I'm the one in a relationship." 

Speed picked up his field kit. "Whatever, man. You ready to interview a bunch of scary drama students with me?"

"I'm sure they're not all scary. You just had a bad dating experience, that's all."

Speed laughed. "Yeah. So, H. says they're in the green room. Any idea how we get there?"

"Via the stage, I guess." He shrugged. "Hey, why do you suppose it's called the green room?"

Calleigh joined Horatio on the stage and looked out across the auditorium. "All the world's a stage," she said and smiled. "Have you ever acted?"

"No. Raymond was always the one who liked being in the spotlight." His expression turned nostalgic. Calleigh thought he hadn't changed at all; as long as the job got done, he didn't care who got the credit. He would never be accused of doing something for the glory of it.

"I was in a play once," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Really?"

"A nativity play when I was ten. I was the angel."

"How were you?"

"Wonderful, of course." She chuckled. "But then I discovered guns and the stage lost its appeal."

Horatio turned all his attention on her and smiled. In the three weeks they'd been lovers, he had learned more about Calleigh than he'd ever dreamed he would. He knew she liked hot showers and long bubblebaths—but not alone. She was grumpy until she had her morning coffee and was ticklish along her ribcage. Champagne made her giggle. And now he knew she had once been a Christmas angel. He could definitely see her as an angel and for a wistful moment pictured their own daughter, long blonde hair, wings pinned to her dress, blue eyes, her mother's smile . . .

"Hey, H?"

Returning to the present, he realized Speed was talking to him. "Yes?"

"Delko and I were talking to some of the cast members. We have an id on the shooter. Claire Tremayne, she's Hero, she says it was Martin Gerber. Adrian Stein's understudy."

Horatio turned to look at the body currently being examined by Alexx. "And Adrian would be our dead man. So we have the star and the director, and we have a motive."

"Talk about jealousy," Speed said.

"It takes all kinds," Calleigh echoed Alexx's earlier words.

"Okay," Horatio said. "Let's see what we can find out about Martin Gerber."


	2. two

"Martin should have got the part," a reed-thin blonde said, exhaling cigarette smoke. "He's a better actor."

"Yeah," her companion, a pretty girl with large doe eyes, chimed in. "Plus, he had better chemistry with Tanya. I don't know what possessed Brett to cast Adrian."

The blonde chuckled. "Sure you do."

Frank Tripp looked up from his notes. "What do you mean by that, Miss, uh?"

"Lea Stephens." The blonde jerked her hand in her friend's direction. "That's Maggie Ward. I'm Margaret and she's Ursula."

Tripp had no idea who Margaret and Ursula were, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, Miss Stephens. Now, what did you mean by your earlier comment?"

Lea smiled and took a drag on her cigarette. "Well, everybody knows Brett was gay."

There was a noise from the opposite side of the green room. Everyone turned to look at the flustered young man, pacing up and down. "This is awful!" he said. "Terrible! I hope my therapist has space for me tomorrow."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and collapsed dramatically into a chair.

Lea snickered. "Don't mind him. Etienne's always like that."

"Who is he?"

"Our stage manager," Margaret said. "He's pushy, but he's the best. He knows what he's doing."

Tripp nodded. "Right. So did you actually see the shooting?"

"No." Lea shook her head. "We aren't on straight after interval. We were in here."

"But Martin Gerber came through here?" Tripp checked his notes; that was what Claire Tremayne had said.

"Well, yeah. And he had the gun and everything." Lea stubbed out her cigarette. "But I thought it was just a prop. I thought he was just messing with Adrian, you know."

Margaret nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Marty's usually such a sweetheart. I don't know what would have made him snap."

"But you heard the shot?"

Lea shivered. "Yeah. We ran and locked ourselves in the dressing room. I've never been so scared in my life." She lit another cigarette.

"Okay. Thanks for your help, ladies."

Tripp stood and crossed to where Speed was talking to Claire Tremayne. She was clutching the arm of Doug Sinden, one of the male cast members.

"It's this place's worst kept secret that Adrian and Brett were, you know, an item," Claire said. "Everyone knows that's the only reason Adrian got the part. It should have gone to Doug." She rubbed her boyfriend's arm.

"Isn't it against university rules for a student to have an affair with a staff member?" Speed asked, a little surprised at how casual everyone was. 

"Yeah, but technically Brett wasn't staff. He was here as some kind of favor, or something. The guy who was supposed to direct got offered a job in Prague and he left everyone in the lurch. Brett stepped in and started from scratch. New auditions, new cast, new play."

"Excuse me." It was Genevieve, still looking shaken. Speed added exhaustion to the list when he saw her eyes. "Have you seen Eric?"

"He's on stage, I think."

"Are the, uh, the bodies gone?"

Speed nodded and was glad to see some of the tension leave Genevieve's shoulders. She smiled and disappeared through the green room doors. Tanya sat next to Claire and lit a cigarette.

"Tell him about Adrian and Brett," Doug said.

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Not that I have anything against gays or anything—some of my best friends are gay." She chuckled. "But this was just creepy. Brett was, like, twenty-five years older than Adrian. And his last boyfriend had AIDS, so I don't know what Adrian was thinking when he got involved with him."

"That's just a rumor," Claire said. She looked at Speed and Tripp in turn. "Brett was a great director. And a great person. If Adrian made him happy—"

"Oh, come on, Claire! Brett was a prick."

"Okay." Speed intervened before the discussion could escalate into an argument. Fortunately, Genevieve chose that moment to return.

"Let's go home, Tanya."

Tanya turned to smile at Speed. "I'm talking to the detective."

"Tanya, I'm not in the mood for this. Let's go."

"But—"

"Tanya, I'm tired. I'm upset. I just want to go home and sleep. If you really want to see Tim again, I'll ask Eric to hook you up."

Tanya blushed, then stalked off to her dressing room. Speed chuckled.

"Thanks, Gen."

"Sorry. Don't worry, I'm not really going to ask him."

Tanya returned from the dressing room with a bag slung over her shoulder. Her cheeks were still red and she didn't look at Speed.

"You guys going to be okay to get home?" he asked.

"We'll be fine. Thanks, Tim." Genevieve took her sister's arm and they left through the stage doors.

Speed looked at Tripp. "I guess we're done in here."

They went back out to the stage. Calleigh stood center stage talking to Horatio, a smile on her face. In her gloved hands she held a 9mm. Beretta. 

"The assistant stage manager found it on the floor in the parking lot. I'm pretty sure it's the murder weapon, but I'll run tests anyway."

"Well, it's late now. You can do that in the morning," Horatio said. He turned to Speed and Tripp. "You two done?"

"Yes."

"Great. Let's go home. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

The team headed up the stairs, stopping when an exceptionally tall man appeared at the top. "What the hell is going on here?"

"There was a shooting," Horatio said calmly. 

"Yes, I know that. What's this rubbish I hear about you wanting to arrest my actor?"

"Who are you?"

"Conrad Dobbs, from the university's performing arts administration. I run this theatre."

"Well, Mr. Dobbs, I'm Lieutenant Caine. Do you know you're trespassing on a crime scene?"

"A crime scene!" Conrad Dobbs threw up his hands in disbelief. "This is a theatre, not a crime scene. Where's that Gerber boy? We need to sort all this out."

"That 'Gerber boy' is currently a fugitive from the law."

Conrad Dobbs gaped at Horatio. "You're making it sound much worse than it really is, I'm sure."

"Martin Gerber killed two people. It doesn't get much worse, Mr. Dobbs."

"Well, you can't arrest him. He's the understudy. Without him, the show can't go on."

Horatio kept his voice low, a layer of contempt simmering just below the surface. "Do the lives of two people mean absolutely nothing to you? The show will not go on until this case is closed."

"Do you have any idea how much it costs to run this theatre? You can't expect me to keep it closed. People have bought tickets for tomorrow's show—"

"Mr. Dobbs! Do you want to be arrested for obstructing justice?"

Conrad Dobbs stared at Horatio for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He spun on his heel and walked out.

Horatio shook his head. "Some people are unbelievable."

"You put him in his place, though." Calleigh chuckled. When they got to the Hummer, she dropped her voice so only he would hear her. "If you take me home, I'll make it worth your while."

A smile played on Horatio's lips; how could he refuse an offer like that? "We need to get this back to the lab first."

* * *

"Now this is the kind of thing I had in mind for this evening." Horatio gave a contented sigh and closed his eyes.

Calleigh grinned and continued kneading his back. Life couldn't get much better, she thought. Coming home from work with the man she loved, knowing she would wake up in his arms the next morning . . . she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Mmm . . . you're an angel, Cal. This is great."

"Only the best for you."

He laughed. Calleigh could feel the vibrations in his back and smoothed her hands across his skin. She was filled with a sudden warmth and joy; he was hers and she could look at him and touch him whenever she liked. It still felt so new and she decided she could never get tired of it.

"Would you think less of me if I told you I just wanted to hold you tonight?"

She chuckled. "Of course not. Never."

"Good." He tipped her off his back and rolled over, then pulled her towards him. He slid his leg over her to keep her in place, as if she had any intention of moving. "Goodnight, Cal."

"'Night." She snuggled closer to him, lulled to sleep by his heartbeat.


	3. three

Another day, and with it, new developments. Horatio was called out of Calleigh's bed by the incessant ringing of his cellphone. It was Tripp, sounding as sleepy as Horatio felt.

"Martin Gerber just handed himself in at the police department."

Horatio rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced down at Calleigh. "Okay. Give me twenty minutes."

He bent down to kiss Calleigh's forehead and smiled when her eyes fluttered open. "Morning, angel."

She yawned. "Hey."

"I've got to go. I'll see you back at CSI later."

"'Kay. I need to go back to the theatre to look for that other shell. Maybe I'll find it now that there aren't dozens of people hanging around."

"Alright." He kissed her again, then headed to the shower. 

Calleigh glanced at the alarm clock and smiled. She could sleep a bit longer. She rolled over and closed her eyes.

Thirty minutes later, Horatio arrived at the Miami-Dade police department. He greeted Tripp, then they entered the interrogation room where Martin Gerber waited, slumped over the table. He sat up straight when they walked in. 

Horatio silently appraised the young actor; he had the looks a camera would love and startling blue eyes, his dark hair was disheveled and he nervously scratched the skin on the inside of his elbow. His other hand shook, and he tapped his feet on the floor. Horatio narrowed his eyes.

"Can I see your arms, Mr. Gerber?"

He frowned at the unexpected question, but held his arms out. They were unmarked. Horatio took a closer look at Martin's eyes. They were bloodshot, the pupils still dilated.

"Have you slept at all?"

Martin shook his head and sniffed. Horatio's frown deepened.

"What did you take?"

"Uh, I don't know what you mean." His voice shook slightly with the lie.

"Drugs, Mr. Gerber. Now I can get a urine sample and wait, or you can just tell me."

Martin buried his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to do it, you know. I just thought I was doing it, like in a dream, but then I heard on the radio this morning that it really happened and, shit, I'm so sorry."

"What did you take?"

"Uh, just some stuff to make me feel better."

"Right." Horatio looked at the two-way mirror. "I'm going to need a urine sample."

The threat of that indignity had Martin squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "Okay, okay, coke. I had some coke and someone gave me a pill. I don't know what."

Horatio leaned across the table. This kind of idiocy never ceased to surprise him. He thought about his brother, and wondered, not for the first time, how his addiction had begun. He forced himself to focus. "Someone gave you a pill and you took it without asking what it was. When you were already high on cocaine. Not very smart."

"Yeah, well . . ." Martin shrugged. "I was depressed. I graduate this year. There were agents coming to watch and I'd lost my chance to impress them."

"So you killed two people." He fixed Martin with his gaze, his expression cold and disapproving. Calleigh had once told him that he was always harder on criminals in drug-related cases. 

"Look, I already said I didn't know it was real."

"And that, my friend, is the problem with drugs. Whose gun was it?"

Martin looked past Horatio. "My dad's."

Horatio nodded. "Okay. How long have you been taking drugs?"

Martin sniffed. "I'm not an addict or anything. Everyone takes something every now and then. It's just lately, it's been like I've needed something extra to get through the day. Stupid fucking Brett Roberts. It's all his fault."

"Because he didn't cast you."

Martin put both his hands on the table and looked at Horatio. "He should have. I was his first choice. And if I'd let him fuck me, he would have. He said so, in as many words. But I'm not into that kind of thing, if you know what I mean. So I told him to forget it. Next thing you know, the cast list goes up and that shit Adrian Stein gets the part. It's not like they hid their relationship after that, but I bet you anything, Adrian would have dumped Brett as soon as the play was over."

"Well, we'll never know now, will we?"

Martin scratched his head. "Can I go now? I need a shower."

"You'll get your shower." Horatio stood and two uniformed officers came into the room. One of them handcuffed Martin, who looked at Horatio in surprise.

"Hey, I thought I could go home."

"Martin, you killed two people. You're not ever going home again." He wondered when exactly Martin would begin to understand just what he had done.

His cellphone vibrated in his pocket. When he saw Calleigh's name on the caller id, he smiled. "Hey, Cal."

"Hey." She sounded tense. "I'm at the theatre with our friend, Mr. Dobbs, and the dean of the university."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, I'm having a ball."

"I'll be right there."

* * *

"The university can't afford this kind of scandal," Oscar Miller, the dean, said. He held up a folded newspaper with the headline 'Much Ado About Something' on the front page.

Calleigh took a deep breath. "What exactly would you like me to do about that? Like it or not, this is the kind of news that sells papers. There were over a dozen witnesses; it was going to leak somehow."

"It's bad press for the university."

"It's not up to us to tell the press what they can write about, Mr. Miller." Calleigh wished Horatio would hurry up and arrive.

"I've had calls all morning about whether the show is going to continue," Conrad Dobbs said. He came closer to Calleigh, hoping to intimidate her with his height. She looked up, unperturbed, and smiled.

"I don't suppose Benedick had two understudies?"

"Miss Duquesne, you don't seem to understand—"

"Actually, it's _Detective_ Duquesne, and _you_ don't seem to understand. I have a job to do, gentlemen, so if you'll excuse me . . ." She picked up her field kit and started down the stairs.

"What am I supposed to do?" Dobbs asked. "I run this theatre like a business. How am I supposed to continue this show without the lead?"

Calleigh whirled around to face him. "You are unbelievable. Two people died here last night and all you can think about is how much money you're going to lose. What you _should_ do, Mr. Dobbs, is pick up a phone and call the families of the victims and offer your condolences."

She saw Horatio at the top of the stairs and allowed herself to relax a little. "Martin Gerber handed himself in. He's been charged with murder," he said, surprising Dobbs and Miller.

"Detective—" Dobbs began.

"Lieutenant," Horatio corrected.

Calleigh left Horatio to deal with the men and set her kit down on the stage. She pulled on a pair of gloves, took out her flashlight and headed into the wings to search for the missing bullet. She was prying it out of a wall when she felt Horatio behind her.

"So he confessed?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking. He was so high he claims he didn't know it was real."

She bagged the bullet and turned to face him. "So the case is over, I guess."

"Yes. Thank goodness. I'm not sure I have any patience left to deal with Mr. Dobbs. Though I think I finally convinced him that Martin Gerber cannot possibly finish up the run of the show."

"What are they going to do?"

Horatio shrugged. "I don't know. Let's get out of here."

They walked out onto the stage to see a janitor mopping up the bloodstains. A crewmember walked on carrying a tin of paint and a roller. When the janitor moved away, the crewmember started painting over the stain.

"It's a whole other world."

"The show must go on," Horatio said, and shook his head. Ever the gentleman, he carried the field kit for Calleigh, his hand resting possessively at the small of the back as they walked up the stairs and out into the real world.


	4. four

A month later, Calleigh was peering through a microscope when she felt Horatio's presence in the lab. Smiling to herself, she slowly straightened and turned around. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. 

"Hey," Calleigh said.

"You got a minute?"

"For you, always."

Horatio glanced around to make sure they were alone in the lab. He quickly crossed the room and enveloped Calleigh in a hug.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"Just because."

Calleigh didn't argue. She closed her eyes and reveled in his warmth. 

"You've been using my shampoo again," he observed, chuckling.

She laughed. "May I remind you that you were the one who washed my hair."

"Umm." Horatio undid her clip and her hair tumbled loose. He combed through the silken strands with his fingers. "I love your hair."

Calleigh tilted her head upwards and placed tender kisses along Horatio's jawline. "Is that so?"

"I should let you get back to work . . ."

"You started this."

"It wasn't my intention. I did have a purpose in coming down here."

"Right. I've heard that one before."

Horatio smiled. While it was true that he often visited the ballistics lab to get a glimpse of Calleigh at work, he really did have a reason today. "Would I lie to you, Cal?"

"Only at your peril."

"Do you have an answer to everything?"

"Yep."

He allowed himself one more kiss before stepping back. "There's been a change of plan for tonight."

Calleigh's face fell; she'd been looking forward to a quiet night in with Horatio. She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she asked, "A case?"

"No. We still have a date. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. Wear something fancy." He tucked a lock of her behind her ear, adding wistfully, "And wear your hair down."

As he left the ballistics lab, Calleigh twisted her hair and reclipped it. How was she supposed to get back to work now? she wondered. Her body was still humming from Horatio's presence, and there was the added anticipation of the mystery date.

* * *

Calleigh stared at her reflection in the mirror and applied the finishing touches to her make up. She smiled and realized she'd been smiling a lot in recent weeks. There was only one person to blame for that and he was currently on his way over.

Calleigh stepped back and studied herself critically. She'd chosen a simple black dress (for Horatio's benefit, of course), a touch of elegance added by the diamanté bracelet on her wrist. Its matching clips held her hair away from her face. 

"You look lovely," Horatio said from behind her.

She let out a small shriek and turned around, her hands on her hips. "Good Lord, Horatio. You startled me. And you're early," she accused.

He shrugged and stepped closer to her. Catching her waist, he drew her against him. "God, you're beautiful. I'm tempted to stay in after all."

Calleigh stepped out of his arms. "I did not get all dressed up for nothing. You can have your fun later."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

Calleigh smiled and picked up her bag. "So, where are we going? And what's the occasion?"

"That's on a need to know basis."

She laughed. "Okay. Fine. Let's go, then. The suspense is killing me."

When they walked into the foyer of the Miami Shores Theater, Calleigh squeezed Horatio's arm in delight. He bought her a program, then, his hand on her elbow, moved towards the doors.

"How on earth did you manage to get tickets for the gala?" Calleigh asked. 'The Love of the Nightingale' had been playing to packed houses since it opened, and attendance at the gala performance was strictly invitation-only.

"I have my sources." He smiled and refused to say more.

Once they found their seats, Calleigh scanned the program and snickered when she saw a familiar name. "Tanya Risi's playing Philomele. Let me guess, your source wouldn't happen to be Eric, would it?"

"Shh," he said. "It's about to start."

The house lights went down and Calleigh leaned back in her seat to enjoy the show, her hand comfortably resting on Horatio's thigh.

Philomele traveled, fell in love, and had her heart broken. Tereus fell in lust, murdered the captain, lied to Philomele. Raped Philomele. Silenced Philomele. Interval came and passed. Philomele refused to stay silent and found a way to tell her story and avenge herself. She turned into a nightingale, finally free, and the curtain came down. 

"Horatio, that was beautiful," Calleigh said as they walked back to the car. "Thank you."

She spoke about it as they drove back to her place, mentioning her favorite parts, saying how wonderful the end was, and wasn't Tanya terrific?

Horatio kept stealing glances at her, enthralled. Without a second thought, he turned the car around and headed to the beach. At this time of night, it would be practically deserted. When he stopped the car, he pulled off his socks and shoes and Calleigh followed suit.

"I don't think this evening could get more perfect," Calleigh said.

Hand in hand, they walked along the beach. The night wind whipped Calleigh's dress around her legs and her hair danced in the breeze. She laughed and turned her face to Horatio. If he could freeze one moment in time, it would be this one, he thought. The moonlight playing on the waves, the gentle sound of the water lapping the sand, and Calleigh. Only Calleigh.

Always Calleigh.

"I don't know what I ever did right to have you in my life," he said.

She shook her head. "I'm the lucky one."

Horatio, usually so eloquent, was at a loss for words. He stopped walking, and held her close as he kissed her. Her body was soft and warm against his. Inviting. He cupped her face tenderly in his hands. When she smiled at him, he came undone.

"Marry me." His voice was low, husky, straight from his heart. He had intended a more romantic proposal, over dinner with candles and roses. He had wanted to wait until he was absolutely sure that she would say yes.

She didn't say anything, and for an instant his heart stopped beating.

Then she pulled his head down and kissed him fiercely. "Oh, God, yes, Horatio!"

And he knew he couldn't have timed it better or made it more perfect than it already was. Alone on the beach, under a canopy of stars, Calleigh Duquesne agreed to be his wife, and Horatio was complete.

* * * * *

The end, for now. Look out for the next story, where an old enemy reappears just when everything is going right :o)

Notes: This story is based very loosely on something that actually happened. Three years ago I was in a play and a fellow student chased our director into the theatre just before the second act began. He shot him in the leg then ran off. Fortunately, no one else was injured (but it was pretty damn scary for those of us hiding in the wings!). He handed himself in to the cops but the case never made it to trial (you gotta love the SA justice system ::sigh::) The circumstances surrounding that incident were far less controversial than in my story – our director is fine, the stage floor was repainted and we were back on stage the very next night. Who knew Shakespeare could be so exciting? ::grin::

That said, the theatre is a magical place and if you ever get a chance to see "The Love of the Nightingale", you shouldn't pass it up. Thanks for reading and for indulging two of my passions :o)


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